


Cat-and-Mouse...and-Cat

by PaperAnn



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Awkward Flirting, Awkward Tension, Awkwardness All Over, Cas and Sam are Coworkers, Castiel is Not Oblivious, Castiel/Dean Winchester Mutual Pining, Dean/Cas Pinefest, Drunk Sex, Drunken Shenanigans, Explicit Sexual Content, Firefighter Dean Winchester, Fluff, Getting Back Together, M/M, Mutual Pining, Office Party, Romantic Comedy, Sam and Jo are Partners in Crime, Sexual Tension, Shipper Jo, Shipper Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-12
Updated: 2018-03-12
Packaged: 2019-03-28 00:52:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13892775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaperAnn/pseuds/PaperAnn
Summary: Dean Winchester was a grown-ass adult, so the fact that he was awkwardly watching someone from afar was unlike him.  Normally, he’d stroll right up, introduce himself with a devil-may-care smile and ask if the attractive gal or guy (he didn’t discriminate) would like to grab a drink.You didn’t get anywhere unless you took that jump, right?Except…Dean had already taken that jump.  It worked out fan-friggin-tastically, they had the time of their lives!  The guy, Cas, was all kinds of gorgeous, sexy, smart…but Dean was keeping him at a distance because the next time they saw each other?  Cas gave Dean that I’ll-play-along but his eyes were too fucking vacant to really recognize him.Dean cursed the open bar at the company party, but more than anything he cursed himself for sneaking out in the middle of the night after epic sex!How the hell did Deanre-introducehimself as the guy Cas hadalreadybanged and ask if they could grab dinner or something because helike-liked him?If Dean had just stayed the night, if he’d just woken up next to Cas in bed he wouldn’t have this problem in the first place!





	Cat-and-Mouse...and-Cat

**Author's Note:**

> I should have a forever-thank-you to [whataboutthefish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/what_about_the_fish/pseuds/what_about_the_fish/works) for being my BFF, the most amazing wifey who pushes me and inspires me, and for this fic: beta read for me! YOU DA BEST, BABY!!
> 
> OMG! I cannot thank the absolutely fantastic [dmsilvisart](dmsilvisart.tumblr.com) enough and sing her praises all day long! Not only is this chica a talented artist, she made the experience a joy and went above and beyond with her work! I have nothing but wonderful things to say, and anyone who gets paired with this gem of a human in future Bangs or challenges is in for a treat <3 
> 
> This was written for [The Dean/Cas Pinefest 2018](http://deancaspinefest.tumblr.com/)! After much peer pressure *cough*youknowwhoyouare*cough* I signed up, and I couldn't be happier I did! This challenge was a blast from start to finish :)
> 
> Without further ado, please enjoy this fun rom-com with boatloads of UST, awkwardness and (of course) pining!

****Dean Winchester was a grown-ass adult, so the fact that he was awkwardly watching someone from afar was unlike him in the first place.  Normally, he’d stroll right up, introduce himself with a devil-may-care smile and ask if the attractive gal or guy (he didn’t discriminate) would like to grab dinner or a drink.

You didn’t get anywhere unless you took that jump, right?

Except…Dean had already taken that jump.

He knew it.

That’s where everything got seven kinds of crazy, because this guys he was fawning all over?  Well, he was gorgeous and friggin amazing, but Dean was keeping him at a distance, because said guy was _too_ amazing, and the dude didn’t even remember!

Yeah, Dean _had_ approached him already.  Cas (that was his name, he knew for a fact) gave him that I’ll-play-along look, but his eyes that were too fucking vacant to _really_ recognize him.  Which was a shame.

After all, he’d fucked Dean so hard he threw his damn back out, and he had to call in sick to work.  And it happened less than a week ago!

Maybe it was time Dean started, you know, staying until the morning after freakin' awesome sex.  Instead of his usual: sneaking out in the middle of the night.  It hadn’t mattered before, but the fact that he wanted another round with this guy, or—hey!—maybe to even hang out, this was now a…situation.  

How the hell did Dean _re-introduce_ himself as the guy Cas had _already_ banged and ask if they could grab a drink, or something because he _like_ -liked him?  Since that went so well the first time, Dean skipping town and all.  Goddammit!

\-----------------------

“Dean!  Can you just concentrate?!” Sam’s voice snapped him out of his moment of reverie, having zoned out staring across the room.  When his eyes landed back on his little brother, the annoyance dripping from his face suggested this wasn’t the first time he’d attempted to get his attention.  With a raised eyebrow, Sam asked drably, “Really?”

Yep.  That 'really' was more than enough evidence.

“It’s your fault!”  He hissed and leaned in, the distance between them nonexistent because he didn’t want anyone overhearing.  “You brought me to your work!  After I confided in you, after I-I told you about what—!” Dean tilted his head to the side as he watched a smirk appear on Sam’s features, “—What?”

“Seriously.  You’re honestly this distracted?” Sam chuckled and gestured over his shoulder to where Castiel was burning the midnight oil at the job too, filling another cup of joe with his damn collar slightly buttoned and his tie all loose and rumpled the same as his shirt…

“Yeah.”  Dean gulped.  “I might be.”

He stifled a groaned as his head fell down to the table and hit the stack of paper, the dulled thud soft enough to jar him but not capture anyone’s interest.

“Huh,” there was piqued curiosity there, “Never would have imagined he’d have gotten to you like this.  Why?”

Slowly, first—to see if Cas had gone back to hide away in his office—Dean’s head rose.  Then with a little more momentum he continued until he met Sam’s shit-eating grin.

So he did what any good brother would do.

“Yeah, Sammy.  God, if _you’d_ been plowed with that cock, you—”

“Ah!”  Both a horrified shriek and a punch shut Dean up pretty fast, but he couldn’t help but feel victorious.  “Jesus!  Don’t say…that shit!  It’s gotta be more than sex.  You’re fawning like a high school girl with a crush.  You’re gonna give me nightmares for the rest of the month, and that’s _all_?  What got to you?  Besides the obvious...” Sam asked, resting his chin on his hand like they were gonna have gabby-chick time.  No, that wasn’t gonna fly.

Dean shrugged his shoulders noncommittally.  “Got lotsa stuff, the thing wet dreams are made of.  That’s all I’m giving you.  But!”  He raised a finger before Sam could complain, “There was, uh, other things.  I need to know if he remembers something, friggin _anything_ about what happened, and—”

“Why do you think I brought you here?”  Sam was smug, and it actually came as a surprise.  “I’m hiding you in plain sight.  See if it sparks any memories, because you and your moping?  I heard directly from Jo—you’re doing just that.”

“Wait, so you really don’t need my help with state board building code?” he drummed his fingers on the text Sam had shoved in front of him upon arrival, “You don’t have an inspector coming in…?”

“No.  I should actually be working.  Doing _real_ work without you distracting me.  This was more a favor.  For you.”  Sam leaned back in his chair and slouched.  He jeered his thumb and suggested, “You could always use the excuse of needing to check the smoke detectors on the floor while you’re here.  Know Cas has got one in his office.  See if you can start a fire of your own.”

“Oh, shut up!”  His nose automatically scrunched up when Dean spat out, “That is the _worst_ pick-up line in the world!”

With a shrug, Sam crossed his arms.  “Start going around and checking the batteries on all of ‘em.  Won’t look weird if you’re moving from one to the next.  Everyone knows my brother, the firefighter.  After all,” he clucked his tongue, “You _were_ at the company outing, downing all the liquor you could get your hands on, being the life of the party.  Where you banged my coworker who _seems_ oblivious, but seeing you again may help.”

Just those words…the way they were said.

Dean was given motivation again and he shot straight up from his chair, his voice booming and informing the rest of the late-night staffers (well, the single other person in the room) to hear, “Yeah, while I’m here I’ll make sure those detectors are in good shape!” and deliberately glanced at the lone employee…only to see he was wearing earbuds.

Sam actually laughed out loud and swatted at his arm, “No one to impress!  You’ve already seduced him once, right?  Just go be a distraction before Cas’ brain blows up from crunching numbers and debt consolidation.”  Sam added, by way of explanation, “We’re behind this month because of a fired employee, one high up on the totem pole we're positive was embezzling.  His job in financial—”

“Has got Cas in a pit of catch-up work, tryin' to figure out how much money was lost, I know, Sammy,” Dean rolled his eyes and Sam’s jaw actually dropped open.

“Um. _When_ did you two get to chat about that?  Was it during or before he laid your ass in bed for days?”  Sam shamelessly teased, “Next time your foreplay deals with work woes, maybe you should take time to stretch!  Not as young and spry as you once were.”

“Eh, fuck yerself.  Since no one else is doing it,” Dean countered.

Sam snipped right back, “Someone _could_ be doing it, but maybe they’re taking off before I can remember them fucking me!”

“Cheap shot!” he tried to contain the growl while he went about checking the first smoke and carbon monoxide alarm in the main room.  “Why don’t you go back to your banking shit, bitch.”

With a belly-laugh, Sam agreed, “I will, now that I don’t have to fake needing your help and you’ll actually work your way down the hall.  Just get in there, already!”

Mumbling choice phrases under his breath was easy.  Cursing at Sam was easy.  But as Dean’s feet moved closer to Cas’ office he was hesitant and second-guessing every move he made.    
  
All right, the door was cracked—so that meant he didn’t mind visitors, right?  Phew, he could do this! 

“Hello?”  A deep voice broke him from his hovering.  “Can I help you?”

When Dean entered, Cas was impossibly more ruffled than before, a hand running through his hair left the locks sticking up every which way.  Just like the night Dean had ran his own hands through it and tugged, the night they… _goddammit—_

“Yeah, I—was just gonna check out…”

_You_ ,’ he wanted to say.  ‘ _Check you out all day long, gorgeous sonuva bitch…_ ’

Castiel was waiting, he was watching Dean who was silently daydreaming in anticipation.  And that’s when he remembered he needed to, you know, _talk_.  Say something.  Dammit!  He was usually so much more suave than this, but remembering every second, every moment of Cas taking him apart now flashed in slow-motion.  Like an instant-replay at the forefront of his mind—fuck!

“I—uh.  Checking out, checking _on_ the detectors.  Of smoke. Smoke detectors,” he finally fumbled his way through the sentence and wanted to kick himself.

“Oh, of course.”  Cas gestured to the small circular device that the was behind his desk, behind _him_ and offered, “Go right on ahead,” with a slightly curious expression, and Dean prayed to God maybe, just maybe, he was putting the pieces together…

Except the abrupt words of, “You may come in,” reminded Dean he still hadn’t moved from the doorway.

Shit!

“Yeah, thanks.”  Dean ordered his feet into action, because recognition still wasn’t lighting up in those gorgeous baby blues, and now he had to round the office, awkwardly hugging the wall (like a jackass) because he didn’t want to risk getting too close.

He probably looked like an idiot, which was a lovely second- _second_ -impression.

The thing was, that if he was too close to Cas?  Well, Dean was actually afraid he’d want to reach out and grab him.  Being within this kind of proximity, he wanted to feel his touch again, to touch him too, and luckily the man wasn't wary.    
  
Castiel’s intrigue quickly transformed into amusement when the Majestic Dean I-Can’t-Control-Myself Winchester shoulder-checked the corner of the wall hard enough to bounce off of it.

Not only did Dean grunt attractively, but the collision tripped him.  He struggled getting his feet back under control, luckily avoiding of a face full of carpet (plus the unsexy kind of rug burn)—but seeing that grin was so worth it!

Cas chuckled and said, “I don’t suppose you handle fires with that kind of grace, do you?”

“Heh, it’s been a long day.”  That was the only thing he could come up with.  “Need a coffee.  After my shift, Sammy called for help so I came right over.”  Dean took a deep breath and finally reached the device and focused all his attention on it.  He funneled all his concentrated because knowing that Cas was right behind him and just mere feet away?

Well, it gave him flashbacks.  Like a sexy kind of PTSD.

It made his damn heart race, just because after the marathon-best-sex-of-his-entire-life, Cas had…held him.  It was embarrassing to admit it now, but, yeah, at the time Dean had thrown his pride aside and happily relaxed, wrapped up in Cas’ arms.  At that point, he’d sweated out all the alcohol, he’d been sober.  Dean remembered all the future promises, the sweet words that made him blush and the way he couldn’t wait to see him again.  
  
Well, he _had_ seen him again.  And it sure hadn’t gone according to plan.

Now…he was left in this clusterfuck of a situation.

Why had he ran?!

“Is something wrong?”

The words were pitched directly at his back, which meant Castiel had spun around in his office chair.  And, fuck, if things were different Dean would’ve locked that door and straddled his lap.

Except, things _weren’t_ different.  So Dean’s hands shot up to unscrew the cap and check the mechanism because he knew until then, he’d been merely staring.  That also meant that Cas had been staring _at him_ …which gave him hope.

After all, they had chatted about their life stories, about all the shit he was going through with that embezzlement and fraud crap, trying to put the pieces of the company's finance back together.  Technically, Cas should be slumped over the chaos of paperwork.  Not watching Dean.  This was good, this was really, really good!

“Nah,” Dean cleared his throat, fiddling with the wires and checking the test buttons, the beeping shrill and active, “Looks good from here.”

“Yeah…”

Wait.  Was that…a casual flirtation?  Kind of?  Maybe?

Dean turned around too fast, wanting—no, needing—to see the expression on Cas’ face that went along with that word.  

Ah-hah!  

He was just fast enough to see Cas’ eyes flit upward from his ass to his eyes, unfortunately the man’s poker face was bar-none when he casually said, “Everything in working order?”

“Sure is.”  Confidence was now on Dean’s side for a change, and while he wasn’t overtly going to launch (he refused to ruin anything) he’d try to…fish.  “So is my brother as much of a brat at work as he is in real life?”

Castiel was caught off guard by the topic, but Dean had his undivided attention.  “Sam is one of the best colleagues I have.  I’d never describe him as…” the word sounded foreign when he echoed, “a brat.”  He managed to throw Dean for a loop when he mentioned, “Are you as social in real life as you were at the company party?”

Fuck, fuck, fuck.  Where the hell did Dean go from here?  He had to play this right.

Previously, when Dean approached Cas, he drew a blank on Dean even existing.  And now, he was mentioning the party they hooked up at?  Not only that, but admitting he remembered Dean there and his…fearlessness?

“Depends.”  He slowly walked away from the reassembled detector and moved to lean against the outside of Cas’ desk, the man tracking his movements as he circled in his chair.

With his hands folded in his lap, Cas asked with interest, “Depends on…?” leading him.

“Lots of things.”  Yeah, Dean busted out a flirtatious grin, so sue him.  “Open bars, atmosphere…the company.”

“Do you enjoy the company your brother works for?”

Dean couldn’t get a read on him.  Whether Cas needed a distraction from his work, if he was being polite, or if he was fishing, just like Dean was doing.  Fuck!  This was so difficult!

“Heh,” Dean chuckled and shook his head.  “Wasn’t talking about corporations, Cas.  Talking about people.  The people I chatted up that night, the ones who I met.  Ones who made me, as you said: social.”

“Ah.”

There was a beat of silence, they were at a stalemate.

Chewing his lip, Dean wasn’t sure if this was his cue to take off, or what.  Finally, Dean slowly stood up, fighting against any awkwardness, and figured this just…was what it was.    
  
Just as he was poised to say his goodbyes, Cas beat him to the punch.

“I hope the key was about the personal interactions.  I quite enjoyed our own.”  Cas’ carefully-selected words made Dean’s heart skip a beat, because did that mean…?  With a smirk right on the side of mischievous, he capped it off with, “And an open bar never hurts.  Perhaps I’ll see you around.”

And _there_ was the dismissal.  

Dean was left with even more questions than before.  Because…those words coupled with that slightly devious glint in Cas’ eyes?

Well, it was enough to stab him, knowing he had to hit the road at the same time he was getting hard in his pants!

Dean would roll the dice and exit with words of his own…

“You’re right.”  Dean pushed off the desk, his gaze lingering and unwavering, “Both make for something pretty fantastic.  I’ll let you get back to work, but if you need some kinda fire-related activity again…you know who to call.”

He couldn’t have imagined it this time.  The way Castiel’s hands tightened into fists, like he was trying to hold back.

Sure, if Cas _was_ completely oblivious the word ‘again’ would’ve been about Dean checking the alarm.    
  
But if he knew damn well the innuendos that Dean was implying?  Oh—there was a bigger and better fire that deserved stoking.  One that had been an open-ended invitation, the bomb of ‘hell yeah, I’m still interested’ being left out in the open.  The more Dean thought about it…

Cas’ first gut reaction, the deer-in-headlights, playing dumb thing?  Dean…understood.  He got it and Dean swiftly took off.  Maybe Cas didn’t want anything to do with him?

This interaction though, it was night and day—and that invite, _shit_.  Dean hoped Cas remembered more than he suspected, because each time Dean saw the man, he wanted him more.

Fuck, he wanted that night again, over and over.

Dean could feel the eyes on his back as he left, and this time he shut the door to let Cas stew in his office.

Even if Castiel hadn’t remembered everything, _if_ there were bits and pieces, maybe seeing him again could spark some of those memories back into focus?  Maybe Cas could begin to remember their night together since he recalled the start of the evening?  
  
Jesus, if Dean could just _shake him_ and make everything tumble back into place and finally click, he’d turn right back around at neck-break pace, grab Cas’ shoulders, and manhandle them until they were horizontal again!

This gave Dean hope…but there were only so many excuses he could use to visit Sammy.

How the fuck did he make this work?!

\------------------------

Thank God Dean had shut the door behind him when he’d exited.

Castiel had all but doubled over on his desk, face in his palms as he attempted to regain his composure through slow, steadying breaths.  There were a few times he hadn’t expected to make it through the encounter.  There were multiple times, so many perfect opportunities to just reach out and…take.

His fingers had itched, his mouth had watered and his body had ached.

However, he was confused.

So confused.

At first, he’d been a mixed blend of frustrated and upset, waking up in the morning to find himself alone in a cold bed after what he’d assumed had been a connection.  A true, honest-to-God connection.  Naturally, those emotions flared with anger—towards himself—for being so naive and Castiel's defenses had ordered him to shut down.

The next time he’d encountered Dean Winchester, who seemed actually excited to see him, as though he _hadn’t_ slipped away in the dead of night?  A cold bitterness had instantly jolted through Cas’ veins.  And he’d played dumb.

It was the only way to prevent him from physically lashing out.  He didn’t know what else to do!  It was the singular thing that made sense at the time, because the other option would have been winding up and punching that beautiful face—which he’d inevitably regret.

Castiel _didn’t do_ these heightened emotions.    
  
He was excellent at his job because he remained cool under pressure, he was unflappable, yet Dean had gotten under his skin in a way he couldn’t begin to describe.  He wanted the chance to tell him that, to make him realize the importance of that in the morning.

There was no morning.

So Castiel decided: there would be no Dean.

…Until there was.

Twice.

The first time, Cas had acted impulsively and hoped it would send the man away for good.  It sounded like a great idea, since there was no logical reason for their paths to cross again.  The only link between them was Sam, and Dean had no business being, well, in their business.  Castiel had anticipated that if he cut off ties once and for all, that would be it.

He _hadn’t_ anticipated the fact he couldn’t get Dean out of his mind.    
  
Hell, Cas had even mused over the idea of asking Sam about him.  Of reaching out to Dean, but that would be impulsive and self-sabotaging.  This wasn’t who he was!  It would merely complicate things, so Castiel had gotten these foolish fantasies out of his system and everything was turning around.  
  
Then, out of nowhere, Dean had shown up at their work!

Castiel had tried as hard as he could to ignore him.  He really had.  But knowing that Dean was sitting out there in the common area with Sam…

Well, it had him wandering on a loop.  Getting cup after cup of coffee.  He’d only been drinking half of them!  The rest, when he’d visited the bathroom, were dumped down into the sink, just so he’d have _another_ excuse to go out and catch a glance at the man who’d turned his world upside down.

The thing that excited and exasperated him was that he could constantly feel the weight of Dean’s gaze.  He wasn’t even subtle about it.  Castiel could even hear Sam’s admonishment through his cracked door!

…Yes.  He’d left his door cracked for that very reason.  To eavesdrop.  Another thing that he never would have even considered doing in the past—invading someone’s privacy—but it appeared that Dean Winchester had ruined him.

Unfortunately, everything after that had fallen to hushed whispers.

Until the man himself appeared in his doorway.

With an excuse falling from those delicious, plush lips.  Castiel remembered very vibrantly the memory of tasting them.  It seemed that Dean did as well, by the way he’d been a fumbling, uncoordinated mess.  It allowed Castiel the honor of studying Dean from behind when he eventually made his way to the task that brought him into Cas’ office.

God, he couldn’t take his eyes off Dean when the man wasn’t looking.

He imaged peeling those clothes off, layer by layer, all over again.  And when Castiel’s eyes dropped down to his perfect, ass—

Well, he’d been caught.  But they were at an impasse, because Dean was still under the assumption that Cas was too intoxicated to remember the affair at all.  That, by itself, was a tragedy.  Although they spoke more, the words exchanged…  As if Cas hadn’t wanted him already, as if he hadn’t planned on spilling countless confessions in the morning,  _before_  he had been left behind—  
  
—He still wished to do it all over again…

And now, Dean was gone.

The door, the only link to the outside world and the faraway sounds of Dean’s voice was lost to him.  Castiel was left with more concerns than answers.

How did they go about this, if they did?  Was it even possible?

He was even more inept to deal with this than the regular person, Castiel had no idea how he’d managed to coax Dean into his bed to begin with.  Yet, he wanted more.  The fantasy wouldn’t leave him, and now that he’d been so close to him again the spark ignited into an even more urgent flame, yet there was no clear path.

That night had been everything.  Castiel refused to give Dean up, even though he wasn’t sure if he had him in the first place.  But God, did he _crave him_.

With a groan, Cas pushed off the desk and slid back in his chair, feeling the wallowing pull of defeat.  Castiel closed his eyes and let his mind wander.  While it was an attempt at problem solving, what he saw in the darkness was Dean pinned underneath him, moaning his name and begging him for release.

Castiel remembered the marks he’d left on his flesh because he couldn’t get enough.  He could still feel the way Dean’s nails dug into his back until they scraped into him with such desperation that they left traces of their own.  Reminders of their bodies slamming together, of breathless pleas and dirty demands.

Of promises of ‘next time,’ all while Cas fucked him senseless.

A grunt of sheer vexation was the only thing that killed his arousal and Castiel pounded his fist against the desk.

This was absurd!  Why did Dean have to leave?!

Why was Cas left with the question of if Dean even wanted him?  Of his reasons for up and vanishing in the first place?  Of why he continued to put himself in Castiel’s path and torture him!?

He was about to lose his mind!

\----------------------

“What’s it gonna take?”

Dean was pulled from his daydreaming, mouthful of burger crammed in his cheeks, at the sound of Jo’s voice.

Oh yeah.  They had a lunch date at her mom’s place during their break because, hey, free food, right?  Except, he wasn’t being a very good partner, was he?

He chewed obnoxiously, causing Jo to make an expression of annoyance before he washed the heavenly bite down with a swig of Coke.  “What?  What’s _what_ gonna take?”

“You getting your shit together!”  Her voice dropped to a whisper when her tone switched on a dime.  “Right now, we should be shooting the shit.  You’ve been a crap-tastic friend lately.  And I’m worried how bad this is gonna get.  You won’t let this affect work—”

“Woah!” Dean instantly slammed that thought to a halt.  “You fuckin’ kidding me, Jo?!”  Yeah, he was offended.  “You actually think that because I’m having a ‘thing’ going on right now, it’d get in the way of a _job_?  We save goddamn lives!  The fact you actually said that to me—!”

“Good.”  He watched a conceited smile worm onto her face.  “That’s all I wanted to hear.”

“Huh?”  Now Dean was confused.

Jo laughed and tilted her chin, explaining, “I wanted to see the old Dean.  I wanted to make sure he was still there.  Because you know what?   _That’s_ who’s gonna fix this problem of yours.  You realize that, right?”

He blinked openly, burger all but forgotten.  “Are you...trying to pep-talk me?”

“More or less.  See, I’ve had a front row seat on this rollercoaster,” she was quick to remind him.  “I came over and watched movies with you after the party, when you threw your back out and couldn’t go into work.  I saw how happy and over the moon you were about this guy.  Then, I saw you crash when you found out he didn’t remember.  Now you’re somewhere in the middle, you don’t know where his head's at.  But you need to remember where _yours_ is.”  Jo pointed a very deliberate finger and stated, “Be _that_ Dean who I harassed because he was already head over heels.  Be the one who couldn’t wait to see this dude again.  That’s the one who’s gonna get him back.”

Jo normally didn’t do touchy-feely kind of topics, like, ever.  So the fact that she was making this so important, the fact that she was going out of her way to propel Dean in some kind of direction meant that she cared.  Or Dean was sinking, fast, and needed a damn lifeguard—making Jo glorified Baywatch.

She require an answer, Jo gracefully moved on and asked, “Are you gonna finish your burger?”

“Uh, yeah—”  Dean noticed ketchup and mayo dripping down his fingers from where he’d squeezed the ever-loving-fuck out of the bun, like it was bleeding condiments, but whatever!

He dove back in, and Jo seemed pleased.  That contented energy continued to buzz around her when she stood up, rounded the booth and patted Dean on the shoulder.  “I’ve gotta run a little errand and then I’ll be back at the station, alright?”

“Errand?” Dean repeated warily, mouth full again, but Jo just winked and waltzed off.  “Huh…”

Her lingering words, though…they stuck with him.  They were legit, Joanna Beth did not pull punches, and it was good ol’ fashion wake-up call advice.  Words that Dean could actually get behind!  That was… _if_ he could muster up the drive.  Still, Jo had seen it all: she knew every one’a his highs and lows, and he knew better than to take her (and her words) for granted.

Dean would probably end up with a shiner and a dislocated shoulder from his girl before 'this rollercoaster' was over though…

\--------------------

Everything was in place as Jo strutted into the corporate office and Sam met her at the door.  He couldn’t wipe the grin off his face when he gave her a once over and whistled.

“I can’t believe you’re doing this.  Damn, Jo.  You’re really going full-out,” Sam walked her to the elevator and punched in the button for the offices on the eighth floor.

With an impish smirk of her own, Jo clicked her stilettos together and tossed her hair over her shoulder to show off the cleavage in the curve-hugging, chic, navy dress.  “Hey, we’re all invested, at this point.  If I can get even a little information, if I can be the one to close this case?  Hell yeah, I’m gonna do it!”  She elbowed Sam right before the door opened and said, “It’s your fault for giving me the idea.”

“I cannot be held accountable,” he quickly disclaimed.

More than a few eyes turned as he escorted her through the wall of cubicles filled with research associates and, wow, Sam was impressed by Jo’s swagger.  They walked beyond the double-doors into the area where the branch managers and market analysts had their own private offices.  That was when Sam took a deep breath, stealing that ‘are you ready?’ glance at Jo.

Oh, she was.  Repositioning her purse and looking left and right for the go-ahead to adjust her boobs.  Sam muffled an outright laugh before he knocked on the door.

“Yes?  You may come in.”

Sam grabbed the handle and opened the door for Jo, setting the scene by saying, “Cas, you remember Jo from a few weeks ago?  She wanted to speak with you.  I figured you wouldn’t mind a distraction,” over to where the man was hunched over his desk.

Complete confusion flashed on his features before he schooled them back to something neutral and stood up, crossing the space to shake her hand.  “Yes, I…Miss Joanna, what do you wish to speak about?”

“I think we’re good from here, Sam, thanks!” Jo winked with Cas’ hand in hers and Sam shut the door.

She returned the handshake and watched him move back to his side of the desk very intently.  “I believe we have some unfinished business, Castiel.”

His brow furrowed as he watched her proud air of confidence when she sat her purse down in the chair, yet didn’t take a seat herself.  Castiel missed a beat, yet fell back to composure, despite the curious happening.  He repeated, “Unfinished business?  Did we discuss something about the bank that evening?  I don’t remember—”

“Oh,” Jo cooed, her fingertips touching down on the cool wood of the desk as she slowly traced along the exterior, “That’s just it.  Sammy told me you don’t remember much of that night.  It seems you blacked out.”  Her voice was just on this side of sultry, pausing mere feet away from Cas.  “Tell me, what was the last thing you remember?  Do you remember…us?”

She waited with a raised eyebrow, daring to take another step, closing in, and watched Castiel’s eyes widen as his jaw dropped.  But not because he was considering something between _them_ , no, Jo could read him.  Her time as a bartender gave her a strategic advantage, and right now Cas was trying to figure out what the hell was going on.

If he was truly innocent and didn’t remember a thing?  He’d be asking, he’d be apologizing to Jo, he’d be trying to make things right.  But Jo had caught him before he even knew his hands were painted red.  This was perfect!

“Joanna,” Castiel’s eyes suddenly narrowed, and he asked slowly, “How much did you have to drink?  Perhaps, your account of events could have gotten a bit…” he was grasping for the word, “blurred?”

Then, Jo had to go in for the kill.  She was doing this for _Dean_.

She licked her lips right before she used her skills (hey—fighting fires required a certain dexterity) and gracefully swung a leg over to straddle Castiel’s lap.  Jo ran a hand through his hair, cupped his face and purred, “The last thing I remember was the crowd pressing our bodies together, the way you looked at me and we talked in private, and then—”

“Miss Harvelle!” Castiel grabbed her shoulders and shook her, knowing her couldn’t throw her on the ground, “Nothing happened between us that night! _Nothing_!  I wasn’t forthcoming with Sam, I do remember, with _clarity_ , and I apologize if you were misled!  I…please…” he was begging her, and Jo feigned a gasp, shooting backwards to sit atop the desk and fix her skirt.

“B-but…”  She played the part, at a loss for word, “Sam said…he said the last time he saw you, you were talking with Dean and I, and then you were gone!  I-I don’t understand…” Jo tried to drum up a glassy-eyed look with her shock, the added hint of embarrassed tears, something to show she needed comfort.

And _resolution_ …  This was the perfect bait.

The moment she had recoiled, he’d shoved his chair so hard it slammed against the wall, and now Cas doubled over.  With his face in hands, Castiel shook his head and could only offer forth, “Yes.  That was when I left.  But I didn’t leave with _you_ , I am so sorry you had come to the conclusion that—”

“What happened?!” Jo demanded, she needed to hear it, she was _so close—_!  “If we didn’t go to a hotel together, or something, why did you leave so abruptly?  Sam was worried, he—”

“ _Sam_ needs to keep his goddamn nose out of other people’s business!”

Jo was actually taken aback by the hostility in Castiel’s voice.  She had no idea that this man, sweet and good-natured, had a rough streak, but now it all made sense…  Jo realized it, she friggin _knew it!_  Castiel was pissed!  He was bitter Dean _had left_ , and this hint, this show of his other side was proof!

Still, she’d only get this chance once!

“Sam was just…looking out for us.  All three of us,” Jo’s voice was demure in the face of Castiel’s outburst.  “I…I’ll say it again, I’m—”

“No.” Castiel implored her as he surged to his feet, “You have nothing to apologize for.  You were under the wrong assumption and others fed your confusion.  It’s not your fault in the least, if I were in your shoes, I would’ve done the same thing.”

His hands rested gently on her shoulders this time, she couldn’t help but notice that his small smile held a bit of sadness.  Jo prompted, “So if you were me, you would’ve taken a chance on someone you really thought you hit it off with?  Even if you didn’t remember exactly what happened, so long as the feeling was there?”

“I’d…”  Castiel went stiff.  “I’d like to have your confidence.”

“So you wouldn’t.  You think I’m too forward and I _shouldn’t_ have come here,” Jo continued to lead him, playing up the charade.

“No, I said I _wish_ I could have more self-assurance, as you do.”  He squeezed her shoulder and let go, retrieving his chair and pulling it back.  “I had a very fine evening chatting with you.  I do hope we can be friends?”

“I’d like that,” Jo smiled, her words sincere and she took his hand.  “That would be nice.  So long as you forget me making an ass out of myself.”

“Heh, it made for an eventful afternoon.”  There were the makings of a genuine smile on his face.  “I hope you have a good day, Joanna.  And we’ll pretend this never happened.”

“I can live with that.  But…I still can’t figure out one thing…”  She hummed in thought, not having released his hand yet.  “Why did you leave so quickly?  Where did you go?  Did you have a good night?  I bet we scared you away.”

“No, no one scared me away.  I had a very good night,” Castiel tried to withdraw his arm, but Jo still hadn’t let go.  With confusion, he added, “Is there something else I can help you with?”

Jo hadn’t realized her grip was so firm, awkward on her release.  She'd struck gold, retrieving the confession of ‘I had a very good night,’ which undeniably meant he remembered _every last bit_ of it.  She couldn’t hold back, “Do you know where Dean went?”

Finally, _there_ was that deer-in-headlights look.    
  
Sure, Castiel had been ruffled by her.  He’d been baffled, but he’d never looked stunned quite like this.  To the point, he couldn’t come up with a story fast enough. The direct-hit rendered him mute, and he asked dumbly, “Dean?”

“Winchester.  Sam’s brother,” Jo showed her own puzzlement.  “You were literally hanging out all night.  Like.  All night.  I thought you remembered everything?”

“Ah, yes, Dean, of course.”  He roughly cleared his throat, “We…shared a cab home.”

“Oh.  That’s interesting.”

“Why?” Cas asked too quickly, then slowed back down, and rephrased it to, “Why would that pique anyone’s interest?”

“Only because Dean told me he had the best sex of his life that night,” Jo tossed the words out as casual as casual could be.  She relished every second of Cas’ eyes doubling as she continued, “And I’ve got _tons_ of embarrassing fun facts about the aftermath.  Hah, you wouldn’t happen to know where he was dropped off, would you?  Or did he head home?”

While everything about Jo was innocent, Castiel was clearly trying to wrangle everything in him not to give _himself_ away.  It was a beautiful thing, watching him unravel, Jo received immense joy from the show.

“You’d have to ask him,” Castiel eventually came up with.  “I apologize, I really need to get back to work, there’s a matter at hand that needs my immediate attention and—”

“You don’t have to make excuses.”  Jo patted him on the side of his cheek.  “Good luck with your internal affairs,” she winked and turned around to grab her purse.

She smiled wickedly as she left—her palm feeling the lingering cold sweat from Cas’ cheek—and shut the door tightly behind her.

The second Sam saw her exit, he nearly sprinted over from the water cooler to escort her out.  He was bouncing like a child, bursting at the seams until they reached the elevator again, where they had privacy.

“How did it go?!”  He erupted, the suspense killing him.

Jo was all nonchalance when she divulged, “Oh.  Castiel remembers everything.  He’s got it bad for Dean.  He’s pissed off our boy left him in the morning, and that’s why he’s got an attitude.  One that can, and will, be easily fixed.  Since Cas is still totally interested.”

“He just…” Sam was slack-jawed, “…told you?  All of this?”

“Not in as many words.  I worked my magic!”  She clucked her tongue, “Hah, are they a match made in Heaven, or what?  No idea who will break first, but something’s gotta give.  I think I made some good headway.  Maybe gave Cas some ideas.  Who knows?”

“Wow.  Just…wow.”  He was in awe—plain and simple.  “You’re amazing, Jo!”

“I may be fabulous, but your buddy may have it out for _you_.  Watch your back.  He’s a little spitfire!”  Jo left him with those words when the elevator opened and waved.  “Gotta get back to work!  You need to approach with caution!”

“Shit.  Shit!  What did you—”

Sam was interrupted by the closing door and Jo laughed all the way to her car.  Mission accomplished!  Now, how to push the idiots together?  
  


\---------------------------

It wasn’t until ‘Winchester Sunday’ that Dean found out about the ploy Jo and Sam had pulled.  
  
Of course, it was bound to come out: Jo inviting herself to the boy’s bonding day _should_ have been the first clue.  Dean hadn’t questioned it because she did what she wanted most of the time anyway.  Everything was fine until five beers in at halftime.  That was when booze and loose lips led to their little discovery slipping and—

—Dean _didn’t_ really handle the news as the pair had expected.

“You did what?!”  He’d shot up to his feet, looming down on both Jo and Sam when he sharply turned on the blonde and exploded, “You went in and _seduced him_?!  You!  You little tomboy, decided to pull on your lacy panties and you tried to—!”

“Woah!  _What_?!” Jo wasn’t having it, and went up against him, head to head, “Are you not getting this?!  Cas _knows_!  Beyond a shadow of a doubt, he remembers!  And he’s butthurt because you hit-it and quit-it.  He thinks you’re a skank that never cared—!”

“The hell?!”  Sam was _done_.  His voice filled the room, louder than both combined, when he shouted, “Are you two listening to yourselves?!  Dean!  Jo did you a favor!  Cas is acting, and he likes you!  Jo!  You don’t have to get snippy, we’re supposed to be problem-solving!  All of this is good, why are we fighting?!”  
  
Neither was stepping away, these were two (stubborn) willful forces and Sam’s words just weren’t getting through!  After watching Jo and Dean stare each other down like gunslingers at high noon, Sam groaned drably, “Of _course_.  Because this isn’t about the ends justifying the means.  It never is!  This is about whose dick is bigger.”

“Wait.”  Dean finally broke, snapped out of it, and realized, “For real?  He remembers everything?”

“Including going back with you.”  Jo crossed her arms, fury still not quelled, “And, apparently—you not being there for him.”  She scoffed, “I got a look at that mean-streak.  He’s bitter.  And you sure don’t got the sugar to fix it right now, honey.”

“I…” he fell back into the recliner, “I’m sorry, Jo.  I just, uh, I saw red!  He’s, like, buried in my brain!  I don’t get it, this shouldn’t have happened, but it did and all I want…” Dean abruptly stopped.

Sam was the one to coax him, “What is it?  We’re all in your corner,” he pitch his voice over his shoulder, “Right, Jo?” and she finally stood down.

“Yeah, yeah.  Jesus!  You need to get your priorities straight, Dean!”  Jo rolled her eyes and chugged the beer in her hand.

“Listen, there is nothing straight about this!  Knowing this makes it a twisting, winding road of—!”

“Your sexuality?” she interrupted with a mischievous grin.

Dean didn’t allow that distraction, “C’mon?  Are we in middle school?!  Just…what the hell am I supposed to do now!”

“He said he wanted my confidence.”

Those words, the moment they left Jo’s quirked lips, made the room fall silent.

Sam appeared engaged, eyes flickering between his brother and their best friend, while Dean was battling bewilderment and frustration.  It looked like it was Jo’s cue to continue.

“When I pulled my stunt?  He said if he’d been in my shoes, he would wish to have my confidence to do the same thing.  Which means he wants to but, I don’t know, maybe he’s shy?  Nuh-uh!” Jo wagged a finger, a dirty remark about to be slotted into the conversation from Dean, and she wouldn’t let him.  “ _Sober_!  He’s obviously shy sober!  And, like I said, it looks like you ditching took a major-league toll." 

“So,” Sam drew out the word, “We plant Dean in Cas’ path.  So he doesn’t have to go out of his way to make a move.  Maybe that’s all he needs?”

“Plant me?” Dean’s brows screwed up on his forehead, “Like a fuckin’ tulip?  What's that supposed to mean?!”

Jo brightened at the concept, “No!  It’s perfect!  You guys didn’t see what I saw when I dropped his name, Cas—”

“You said my fucking _name_?!”

“Excuse me, I was going all out.  I wanted to see what I could get out of him, I only had _one_ chance!” Jo defended without any real gusto, because she was the one who’d made this work in the first place.  She didn’t have to explain herself.  “Trust me, dude.  So long as we can get you together?  In the same place?  I think that’s our only hurdle.”

Dean threw his arms in the air with a defeated, “Fine!  Clearly, you two know way more about him than I do, even though I—you know what?  Never mind.  Just work your magic!  Since yer on the friggin game board, I just need a win!”

Slowly, and with more amusement than Dean liked, Jo and Sam made eye contact and smiled.  Sam was the one to say, “Starting tomorrow, be on call. We’re playing Risk.”

“Woulda preferred Twister, but hey—”

“That’s what got you into this mess,” Jo reminded him, “Now, turn the volume back up!  And grab me another beer!”

\--------------------------

_Sam 7:34AM_  
_Okay, he’s on the street  
__Get ready!_  

It was the text Dean had been waiting for as he stalked this stupid coffee shop that Sam said Castiel stopped into on the way to work each and every morning.

Dean moved from where he’d been perched, sitting nearby and on call at one of the tables and merged into the line.  It would look like he was already here, on his own way in to work.  If Castiel turned tail and ran at the sight of him?  Jo was waiting to catch him on the street, which meant Dean was another step away.

Entrapment?  Yes.  All’s fair in love and war.

When Dean got to the front of the line, he ordered a regular coffee and was handed the hot cup right off to the side.  That’s when he could see that Cas was, indeed, in the line.  He slowly, like, ridiculously, painfully slowly, added cream and sugar (may as well have been grain by grain) until the man landed right in his proximity.

He turned and acted surprised when he greeted, “Oh!  Hey, Cas!  What’s up, man?”

Castiel did a double-take before he tersely greeted, “Dean.  Good morning,” and began to head to the door.

“Hey!”

Shit.  Dean didn’t mean to shout out, it just happened, but it sure as hell caught the man’s attention.  But…uh, what now?

With his normal charisma (he hoped) Dean asked, “What’s the rush?  Wanna sit down and chat for a second?”

He could see the wheels turning in Castiel’s head, he could see the levers and cogs click into place before he decided, “I…suppose I could.”

Dean had to hold himself back from a fist-pump, he had to play it cool.  He gestured to one of the tables close to the door that looked out on the street.  Good scenery, and if either of them choked, it was an easy exit—shit, _why_ was he already planning on the worst?!

Dean sat down with a smile and launched into, “So how’ve you been?”

“I’ve been well.  Work has…taken up much of my time.  I saw one of your coworkers the other day.  Joanna Harvelle.”  Castiel said it with meaning, and if there was one thing Dean _didn’t_ want to chit-chat about?  It was Jo throwing herself at Cas!

“Oh yeah?” Dean looked interested and took a sip of his coffee, one that was too fucking big and burnt his fucking tongue.  “Where’d you run into her?  Do you go to the Roadhouse much?”

“Roadhouse?” Castiel inquired, and that actually managed to change the subject, “I’ve been once or twice, I quite enjoy their burgers.  Oh, wait—” His eyes lit up in understanding, “ _Harvelle’s_ Roadhouse, is it…?”

Dean filled in the blanks with a chuckle.  “Yeah, Jo’s mom, Ellen, owns the joint.  Jo used to work there before she joined the team.  The burgers are friggin awesome.  Have you had the nachos?  Let me tell you, you haven’t lived until you’ve sampled all the greasy, delicious bar-gourmet on Ellen’s menu!  Plus, she makes all her drinks strong, I love that woman.”

“I’ll remember that.  I’ll have to visit again.”  And, oh, that small smile on Cas’ face made Dean want to reach out and kiss him.  “Are you and Joanna…close?”

There was a hint of something in Cas’ voice, a flash of something else behind his eyes that Dean couldn’t pick up.  Did it have to do with her stupid drunk-girl shenanigans?  Did it—?

“Yeah, we’re actually really close.  That girl knows how to get herself into trouble!” Dean was trying to grease the wheels, let the guy know that Jo could be crazy, but instead Cas…

Shut down.

“Interesting.  Well, I should be getting to work.”  He stood up, nodded and said, “Good to see you, Dean.  Take care.”

And then, he was gone.

Dean watched him depart, moving robotically through the crowd and mumbled to himself, “ _…the fuck?_ ”

Because what just happened?!

\----------------------------

Sam was eagerly awaiting a text to see how things went, because the lack of messages clearly meant they had made contact.  He was excited, as time elapsed, the feeling was growing because he knew Dean would make it work somehow!  Or Cas would finally take the hint (after all of Dean’s longing stares in the office) and get it over with!

Sam had been watching from the second floor where the open windows had a view of the shop.

He’d called Jo when he saw they were both inside.

Once that was completed?  Sam’s work was done.  He could happily head to his own floor, his own office, even though he had arrived early to work for what…matchmaking?  When did he become his brother’s wingman?  He supposed, he was always going to be a part of it, since it had to do with his coworker.

Alls well that ends well, as long as—

Except, when Sam hopped in the elevator, Castiel was there.

Cas stared at him and asked, “Why are you on floor two?”

Stammering, Sam could only come up with, “I was chatting with Kevin.  We, uh, we’re friends.  Got up early.  Couldn’t sleep.  Headed, um, in, ‘cause I figured better early than late, or something.  And figured no one else would be in the building.  Until...you.  Because here you are!”

“Ah.”

Once his fight-or-flight shock had weaned, Sam squinted and saw Cas was tense.  What had happened?  From Sam’s view, everything was going well, did Dean piss him off?

“Speaking of friends,” Castiel said as he cleared his throat.

They were walking together as they arrived on their floor.  Sam _eagerly_ waiting for the rest.  Why was Cas hesitating?

“Yeah?”  Sam spurred him on verbally, while physically halting them both.  He needed to get a read on this situation.  “Which friends are we talking about?”

Castiel wasn’t as forthcoming as he usually was.  The man was direct, invasive to a fault, so what had him second-guessing himself?

“Joanna Harvelle and your brother,” he slowly pronounced, and wow, Sam had no friggin clue where this was headed.  “Are they…together?”

“T-together?”  That word had not just left Cas’ mouth, had it?!  " _What_?  Wait—”

With a dire expression and a squint, Castiel nodded in confirmation, “I assumed as much.  They’re very fond of one another, they’re extremely close, I don’t know why I hadn’t seen it previously—”

“No!” Sam’s yelp had at least six heads whipping in their direction, before he lowered his pitch.  “Oh my God, Cas, _no_!  Jo is like our little sister!  We were all raised together, Ellen’s a mom to us!  Hell no!”

Oh no, is that why Castiel was in this mood?  Because of…jealousy?

Because now he looked mystified, studying Sam.  “The three of you?  I thought…I never…”

“Why do you think Jo and Dean were at the party to begin with?” Sam posed the question.

“Because Jo was Dean’s plus one.”  Castiel didn’t even believe his words at this point.  He sounded remorseful, and Sam had it on good authority (with the timing, Cas’ attitude and his penchant for ditching) that he’d just come from blowing Dean off over this.

“No, they’re both _family_.  I wouldn’t invited my brother and his girlfriend.  Plus, Dean's not like that!”  The accusation riled Sam up, he couldn’t stop himself from blurting, “My brother is loyal, to a fault!  If he brought his girlfriend to a party, he’d be doting on her, not off mingling and then fucking deciding—!”

He slammed to a stop.  Shit, shit, shit, he’d almost said it!  Still, faced with Cas thinking that Dean would ditch his _girlfriend_ to go hook up _with him?_  Sam wasn’t defending his dignity, per se, but Dean was a good person!  The concept made him see red.

Except, now Castiel was staring at him with that laser-eyed look.  “Deciding to, what, Sam?”

“I don’t know, that’s his business.”  Sam refused to duck away from Cas’ scrutiny when he replied, “But whatever Dean was doing?  It was as a single man, with someone who had to be something special.  Because _that’s_ the way my brother works.  He’s not a cheater, he’s not a sleaze and these days?  Whoever he decides is worth his time, must be.”

That was when, for the first time in Sam Winchester’s life, he won a staring contest with Castiel Novak.

He would have celebrated, marked the day down in the calendar and teased his friend.  If the subject matter wasn’t so shitty.  
  


But there Cas went—off to his office, with his tail between his legs, knowing that he’d fucked up a perfectly good opportunity.  Lovely.

Still, Sam saw what Jo saw.

Castiel wanted this just like Dean did, except there was something holding him back and he was looking for any and all reasons for ways not to make contact.  To hold back admission.  To make a solid case for their night together and a potential ‘them’ to fail.

Was it out of fear?  Because Dean was sticking his neck out more than Sam had ever seen.  Normally, Sam would be all for it, telling him he thought Cas was a great, stand-up guy.  But there was this static, this white noise and fog lingering between the will and the when.  Sam couldn’t understand it.

When he glanced down to his phone vibrating, he wilted at the text.

_Dean 7:59AM_  
_dude hates me  
_ _Idk what the hell to do man_

 Sam wouldn’t let Dean be beaten so easily like this.  His fingers were pressing buttons as quickly as they could move, as he responded.

_Sam 8:01AM_  
_He thought you and Jo were together_  
_Obviously shows he cares  
_ _Also, I just ripped him a new one_

_Dean 8:03AM  
_ _aww my hero_

_Sam 8:06AM_  
_This is gonna work  
_ _I’m just as invested as you_

_Dean 8:09AM_  
_I highly doubt that_  
_But thx_  
_omw 2 work  
_ _better luck next time_

_Sam 8:11AM_  
_Different kinds of invested_  
_But yeah next time WILL work  
__Or else I may kill him_  

\-----------------------------

Castiel was completely at a loss.

He was jumping to conclusions, throwing a wrench in friendships, and basically acting like a fool.

And for what?

Because each piece that came together, all from outside sources, painted Dean as perfect as Castiel believed him to be.  Why was he actively trying to destroy his perception? Why was he acting in a way that all his normal logic failed him?

It wasn’t even a bad joke: it was horrifying.

Jo’s lingering words of “The best sex of Dean’s life,” added to Sam’s recent, “Whoever he decides is worth his time, must be,” had shattered the wall of Castiel’s frustration at Dean leaving.  He must have had his reasons, if he was trying (consistently) to make an impact that he assumed was new, because Castiel had lied to his face.

Why was he holding himself back at this point?

Dammit, if he had a way of getting a hold of him, he may very well just break.  Except, he didn’t.  Castiel only had his own, worsening problems to stew in, knowing that at this point he probably hurt Dean.

Fuck.  Fuck!  This wasn’t supposed to happen!

\----------------------------  
  
Three days had gone by.  Three days of Sam Winchester, someone he considered a good friend, giving him the cold shoulder.  Refusing to speak to him.  And Castiel supposed he deserved it.  
  
It wasn’t supposed to be like this, this mess could have been easily rectified, but at this junction Castiel had a feeling if he asked for a way to contact Dean he’d be shot down in his tracks.  There was only one lead that he could follow, hoping to fix this.  The words had lingered before taking up residence in Cas’ memory bank.  
  
That was how he found himself at the Roadhouse, in hopes that Jo would be there.  
  
Yes.  Dean was absolutely correct about the food.  He indulged in an appetizer first before his burger, because he couldn’t see the blonde anywhere when he arrived, but he was determined to wait it out.  Hope could do strange things to a person.  
  
Right before he resigned for the night, finishing up his drink, the woman he wanted to see came in through the ‘Employees Only’ doors to say something to the man handling the bar.  Castiel stood up and waved before he could think.  He couldn’t let her disappear, he had to get her attention!  
  
And it worked.  Even though she almost jerked back at the sight of him, she said something to the bartender and then circled over, heading for his booth.  Thank God.  
  
Jo slipped in and said, “Hey there, Cas.  I’m...surprised to see you here.  Enjoying your meal?”  
  
“Very much so.  I’ve been fond of this place.  It only recently that I connected the dots about it being your family's establishment.”  He figured it was now or never.  “I actually came here with an optimism that I may find you, speak with you.”  
  
“I told you we shouldn’t bring up—” Jo instantly jumped to conclusions, which is why Cas had to shut that down.  
  
“No, it’s about Sam!” Cas speedily interjected, and Jo sighed in relief.  “I made a horrible assumption a few days ago, and he won’t speak with me.  It doesn’t even make sense, why the idea crossed my mind, because I know all three of you are good people.  It was...moronic.  Word vomit.  But now that I know you and the Winchesters are like siblings, I was wondering…”  
  
“You want me to talk to Sam?”  She raised an eyebrow and laughed, “To smooth things over because _you_ were a dumbass?”  
  
“I wouldn’t be so crass about it, but—”  
  
Jo leaned forward on the table with a menacing expression when she said, “I know what happened.  Shitty move, pal.  I’ll be as crass as I want, because not only did you insult Dean?  You insulted me.  After the move I pulled, and then you thinking right afterward I was in a _relationship_?  The fuck?”  
  
Castiel was slack-jawed and wide-eyes because this was not the Jo Harvelle he knew.  Apparently, she was fiery, and she was pissed.  And...until now, until right in this exact moment, he hadn’t even thought about her side of things.  He'd just set himself up for yet _another_ disaster.  
  
“I cannot take my words back, no matter how much I wish it.  I was in a high-stress situation and my mind could only come up with one conclusion, one answer, and I didn’t think before I spoke.  Yes, it was shitty.”  He looked her straight in the eyes, “But at least you’ll speak to me.  So I can try and explain myself.  Because that’s what happened.  A stupid mistake.”  
  
Jo was staring back at him, and it was unnerving.  It was only after an elapsed, intimidating period of silence that she asked, “What was the high-stress situation?  Maybe I can fix things for you.  You gotta give me something to work with, though.  So I know why you went brain dead.”  
  
Castiel’s teeth ground together.  He liked Jo, but did he trust her?  With information that had to do with her family?  This was risk-taking, something Castiel didn’t do, but he was already backed into a corner.  
  
“You...must keep it to yourself.”  His voice betrayed him when he all but begged, “Can you please keep a secret?”  
  
Jo’s harsh exterior showed signs of warming, of melting, continually studying him.  “Yeah.  I can do that.  Must be one helluva skeleton, Cas.”  
  
“It’s not a skeleton,” he tried to keep the hostility from his voice, Dean wasn’t a regret at all.  “It’s a complicated situation that keeps coming up, and I’m ill-equipped to handle it.”  
  
“I’m listening.”  
  
Was he _really_ doing this?  Yes, it looked as though he was.  
  
“You asked me before.  If I knew who Dean went home with the night of the company party and I know full well who it was.  It...was me.”  He couldn’t meet her eyes, he was focused on the table, trying to keep his voice even and concise.  “Now, each time I see him, I go into fight-or-flight mode.  Last time I saw him, he spoke of how close your relationship was and my mind, idiotically, went straight to romance.  Maybe it was to remove myself from the situation, maybe I was...jealous.  But it happened, and I wish it hadn’t.”  
  
“Why?” Jo’s tone was soft and understanding, something Castiel hadn’t anticipated and made him look back up.  “Why do you go into fight-or-flight mode around him?  And don’t worry.  Your secret is safe with me.”  
  
“Thank you,” he blurted out, his gut trusted her.  “Because I...don’t know how to act around him.  Because of the way things were left between us.  It’s complicated and I thought Dean wished it to be a one night stand, but he keeps popping up and it…”  What was the correct word for how he was feeling?  “It seems too good to be true.  When I know that it was nothing to him.  So I need to shut things down as easily as possible.”  
  
“Even though you don’t want to,” Jo noted, reading his mind.  
  
Cas huffed, “Unfortunately, you’re correct.”  
  
“Okay.  I get it.  You’re forgiven and I’ll work on Sam.  Without giving away what you just told me.  But what if Dean keeps ‘popping up’ and it's all for a _reason_?” she urged with determination.  “Why shut it down when it could be a good thing?”  
  
He shook his head and stated, “That’s...as far as I’ll go, Jo.  I don’t think you need or want to hear more about the situation.  Next time, if it ever arises, which it probably won’t, I promise not to drag anyone else into things.  I can swear that to you.”  
  
Jo chewed her lip, like she was deliberating, and appeared nervous.  Which was odd, given the intensity of this encounter.  Why would she bow down now?  What on Earth could she be debating over?  
  
Eventually Jo smiled—it was forced, Cas noted—and said, “I just don’t think you should blow Dean off.  Stay for the fight instead of flight.  He’ll surprise you.”  
  
“If only.”  Cas had said it before he could stop.  He promptly shook it off and went on to sincerely thank Jo.  “I appreciate the fact that you not only spoke with me, but you’ll help me with Sam.  I haven’t been myself lately and I need to gather my bearings again.”  
  
He dug into his wallet, the bill already having been at the edge of the table for a while, setting down the cash and a large tip.  Jo was eerily silent, and he hoped that he’d made an impact.  A good one this time.  After all, he’d spoken the words of a memory he’d tried to forget, but it kept coming back up and haunting him.  Well, not haunting much anymore, but making him long for something he’d never have.  
  
When he glanced up, Jo winked.  “You’ll get yourself together.  I've got faith.  Glad you stopped in, and I’m glad I know the reason behind the madness.  But...really.  Think about what I said.  And have a good night.”  
  
“You have a lovely evening as well.  Hopefully, I’ll see you soon and under better circumstances.”  He smiled, and even though Jo had scared the living hell out of him, Cas still meant it.  
  
When he left, he felt liberated in a way.  Someone knew his truth and wouldn’t spill it, and he was a step closer to making amends with Sam.  Dean….was an impossible puzzle, but he could only solve things that were in his grasp.  And Dean just wasn’t.

\-------------------------------

“Shit,” Sam cursed louder than he wanted after slamming his door, coat already on and rushing out of the office.  
  
Castiel’s door had been open to hear the ruckus and instantly flew from his chair out into the hallway.  He and Sam had, with the help of Jo, smoothed things over, and he was worried about his friend.  Except, Sam’s legs were long and he had to jog to catch him before he hit the elevator.  
  
“What’s going on?  Is everything all right?” Cas rushed to ask, because Sam looked as if he’d seen a ghost.  
  
He was repeatedly punching the button on the elevator, practically vibrating in panic when he responded, “Sure it’s nothing.  He does this all the fucking time!  I just—” Sam hung his head, knowing the elevator wouldn’t come any faster when he turned around and said, “Dean _always_ has to play the hero.  Their gear, they only have thirty minutes, forty, tops, before their SCDA runs out of oxygen and he’s in the ER because of potential smoke inhalation.  Jo just texted me, said they’re pretty sure he’s fine, but I’m his emergency contact, so the hospital called me and—” when the door opened, Sam flew in, saying, “Just tell the boss I’m looking after my damn idiot of a brother again.”  
  
Cas was frozen in place, but couldn’t stop the words, “I’ll let them know, and I’ll meet you.”  
  
Sam, in an array of distress, didn’t think anything of it as the door shut.  
  
When he turned on his heels, Castiel’s stomach dropped.  What if Dean was seriously hurt?  Sam’s words didn’t surprise him in the least, knowing even a little bit about the man told him that Dean would be a self-sacrificing fool!  
  
Still, Cas couldn’t help but feel the pull—the need to see _for himself_ that Dean was okay.  He shouldn’t, this kind of scenario was a family affair, but he’d already said the words and committed, he couldn’t back down now!  
  
\--------------------------------  
  
“Dude, I’m fine!” Dean said, for what felt like the millionth time, the second Sam arrived.  “You worry too much, you—”  
  
“You’re the one hooked up to an oxygen tank and wearing a dress,” Sam pointed out with a glare.  
  
Dean assured him, “It’s a precaution and it’s a _gown_ , thank you very much!  There’s no damage, they just wanna give me a hit of the good stuff and watch me.  Protocol.”  He crossed his arms and grunted in frustration, because the tubes sticking up his nose were annoying, but he felt fine!  Sure, he was lightheaded and sick when he came in, but he’d been here before…  
  
Jo was sitting next to him, her voice softer when she suggested, “How about not giving him a hard time, Sam?  Sure, he’s an idiot, but _all_ of us are once in awhile.  Kinda comes with the job description.”  
  
“I’m sorry.”  It was honest when Sam collapsed on himself and ran a hand through his hair.  “It’s just...every time I get one of these phone calls, I expect the worst.  You have to give me that, at least.  You’ve got frequent flyer miles here, Dean, and it sucks.”  
  
“I know.”  His response was a bit more understanding too when he told his brother, “I don’t mean to put you through this.  It really is nothing besides monitoring, just because of the situation.  I really—”  
  
“Dean!”  A voice in the doorway downright shocked him into silence, Castiel’s worried blue eyes imploring, “Are you okay?”  
  
“Uh…”  
  
“Oh yeah.”  Sam decided it was a fine and dandy time to tell him _now_ , “Cas wanted to come over and check on you.  Sorry.  Forgot to mention that.” The stupid grin on his face made Dean’s fist itch to punch him!  
  
Was it too late to play dead—?!  
  
“Uh, yeah, fine,” Dean cleared his throat, and realized that actually kind of hurt, but when he saw both Sam and Jo standing in tandem, true fear spiked in his veins.  “W-where are you—?”  
  
“Cas can watch you for a second,” Jo said simply, “Thank God someone is here, I’m starving, we’ll be right back!”  
  
“Yeah, I need to cool my head,” Sam, the goddamn traitor, confirmed and turned around to grasp Cas’ shoulder.  “Make sure he doesn’t try to make a break for it.  We’ll be right back.”  
  
Although the man looked quizzical about their departure, he didn’t hesitate to take Jo’s seat next to where Dean was looking like a fuckin’ moron.  Laying prone and pathetic in a hospital gown because a little smoke—no real battle wounds to show for it?  
  
“What happened?” Cas asked, leaning in and looking all adorable with his concern.  It made Dean wanna play it up so he could get more attention, but unfortunately, that just wasn’t on the cards.  “Sam left the building like a cyclone, said you were in the hospital and I couldn’t help but make sure you’re okay.  I’m told you do this a lot?”  
  
“Uh, sometimes,” Dean admitted and moved to sit up in the bed.  “At least this time it wasn’t a broken bone or a serious burn.  I just...kinda ran low on oxygen when I was making a final run into the house.  But I had to, the kid was sobbing, and I knew there was no way they’d make it out.”  
  
Castiel scooted closer, “Who was they?”  
  
He sheepishly admitted, “Kittens.  I fuckin’ hate cats, but this little girl was five, dude.  When you’re that age, you don’t care about what you lose in a fire, the house was kaput, it's about the 'who.'  She was crying all the little fuzzballs names and was hysterical.  Sure, we always, _always_ try and get pets out, soon as possible.  But she had them hidden from her parents.  They didn’t even know she had been taking care of them in a little box under her bed.  News only came out _after_ we cleared the house.”  
  
“And you jumped right back in.”  His words were mused, and the smile on his face was enough to make Dean glow.  “I do hope the parents allow her to keep them.  After all your trouble.  But...you’ll be all right?”  
  
“I’m peachy.  I promise.  I’m sorry Sam made a big deal out of this, blew it out of proportion and stressed you out.”  Dean worried his bottom lip before he took a proverbial step forward. “I’m glad you came, though.  Good to see a face that isn’t all pissed off at me.  Your mug’s a welcomed relief.”  
  
“Speaking of…” Castiel alluded, and reached out, making Dean lock up.  
  
His thumb rubbed against Dean’s cheek bone methodically, and dammit, the stupid heart monitor was beeping faster, totally giving him away!  It was one thing to contain your own traitorous feelings and not let them show on your face.  It was some _entirely different_ to be hooked up to a machine—one serving up full-on medical betrayal!  And Cas totally fucking noticed, his flitting eyes landed on the monitor, but he gracefully ignored it.  
  
“You still had soot,” Cas explained, but his hand lingered against Dean’s cheek, which was most definitely turning pink.  “You’d think they would have cleaned you up better…”  
  
It was a little moment cut out of time and space, because the words Cas was saying were just that: words to justify his lingering touch that Dean couldn’t help but lean into.  In the next second, Cas’ hand had rounded, actually cupping Dean’s face as their eyes locked, trying to ignore the bonkers beeping of the machinery.  
  
“Good thing you showed up and helped out, huh?” Dean grinned, some kind of confidence spurring him forward as he tilted his chin just slightly, his lips brushing against Cas’ palm.  
  
With a sharp inhale (and a move Dean couldn’t believe), Cas glided his touch upward, until it was carding through Dean’s hair.  It was so familiar, it was warm and frigging _amazing_ ,  completely mirroring the way Cas had caressed him in the afterglow.  It felt fucking awesome, Dean hummed and melted into it, his eyes shutting as he absorbed the sensation for a half-second—  
  
  
  
Then it was gone.  
  
The second his eyes opened was the second Cas had turned around, facing the door and saying, “There was still ash in his hair,” defensively.  
  
Goddammit!  If there was ever a time for Sam and Jo to cockblock him _and_ ruin a moment, right now couldn’t have been worse!    
  
Because now, Cas was awkwardly withdrawing, turning back to Dean and saying without a hint of inflection, of fondness or care, “I’m glad you’re alright.  I should be heading back to work now.”  Then he marched out of the room.  
  
Both Sam and Jo appeared ashamed, and it wasn’t until Dean knew Cas was gone that he turned on them something fierce and spat out, “You fucking assholes just ruined everything!  I thought you were supposed to be on my side!  What the fuck?!”  
  
“We couldn’t help it!  It was like, the fruit of our labor coming to life!” Jo whined and kicked the ground.  
  
“So you were being voyeurs?” Dean continued to rage, “I’ll never have a chance like that again!”  
  
“Yes, you will!” Sam assured him, hands in front of his chest as though Dean was about to start throwing shit at him.  Which sounded like a great idea...but there was nothing within reach… Sam promised him, “We’ll make sure if it.”  
  
“No.”  There was a weight of loss, heavy on his chest.  “He’s scared.  He took a chance and he was caught.  Fuck.  Fuck!” Dean flopped back to the bed and glared up at the ceiling.  “It’s impossible to come back from that.  He sounded mortified.  Like he didn’t know what he was doing. That’s all he’ll think about.”  
  
“You’re wrong,” Jo sounded so damn certain.  “Just get better.  We’re sorry.  And...you can totally kick our asses later.  Once they’re done with observation.  Okay?”  
  
“Whatever.”  
  
Dean was crestfallen and tired.  So goddamn tired.  
  
The only thing that made his hospital stay better (because, of course, Cas never came back) was the fact that the little girl with the litter of kittens came to visit.  Except, she came with one tucked into her pocket, gleefully announcing she was renaming the little tiger striped male after him.  
  
It would have been adorable, except Dean was allergic, went into a fit of sneezing and coughs that extended his stay _another_ motherfucking _day._   ‘Kitten Dean’ had instantly jumped and crawled all over him, getting his cat fur and dander everywhere, and it shot right down into Dean’s already-abused lungs!  
  
Still, it was adorable.  And this was what made the job worth doing, right?  Yeah.  Dean would go with that...  
  


\-------------------------------

This had been an awful idea and it laid solely on Sam’s shoulders.  For some reason, he had it in his head that this was actually going to work out, despite all of Dean’s setbacks and losses.

Was his brother seeing something that he wasn’t?!

Because, from here, as Dean continued to pound down shots and beer to lick his wounds, he felt as though Cas couldn’t care less.

Yeah.

Cas was here.  Out at a bar.  Because Sam had extended an invite to a few close co-workers to celebrate Jo’s birthday tonight.  It didn't feel like much of a celebration.   
  
Throughout this whole debacle of baiting, playing the game and Dean constantly losing, it looked like everyone else had gotten BFF-y enough to invite Cas without hesitation.  Even though Dean felt like throwing in the towel, he couldn’t wuss out.

This would’ve been the perfect set-up to get to the bottom of things, once and for all.  But…what if Dean didn’t want to know the answer?  What if the man wanted nothing to do with him—Cas was so hot and cold!  He was truly riding that edge of defeat and it was unfortunate.

Since Cas looked like sex on wheels tonight.

Jesus Christ, when this man wasn’t in his normal tie and suit combo?  He was fucking glorious.  Some people ‘cleaned up nice’ but Cas did the opposite.  When he dressed down, Dean was two seconds away from _dropping down_ on his knees to suck him off, or something.

He unintentionally whimpered at the thought...of getting his hands on the front of those tight, black skinny jeans, peeling off his leather jacket and ripping away that damn tight shirt…that got Dean going all over again.  Even though Dean was appreciating him from across the room, Cas  _must_ have felt eyes on him because he glanced up—

When their locked eyes…it was heated.

Crap.

They hadn’t talked all night, even though Dean knew he (probably) wouldn’t have run away if he’d tried.  At first.  He may after a few mis-worded sentences, Jesus, Cas always ran!  Maybe that’s why Dean was keeping his distance—it was an avoidance method—because he's seen Cas' ass leaving more than his face actually, you know, _staying_.  Although, that was a nice view...

However, their current gaze made Dean’s stomach tie in knots, because he’d anticipated a raised brow.  A ‘why are you staring at me, you creep?’  Not a sign telling Dean he wasn’t alone. 

Sue him, Dean couldn’t help but suck his bottom lip between his teeth, as he held firm to his confidence and refused to shy away.  After all, there was an entire bar length between them, what was Cas gonna do?  That returned expression, _shit_ , it shifted and ignited into something hotter and Dean wasn’t imagining it, no sir, _this_ was the way Cas had looked at him the first night.

This was the way his eyes glimmered when he told Dean (not asked) that he was taking him home.  This devilish and sweet tasting lust was what had Dean spreading his legs, begging and shouting for Cas'—

“Heya!” Jo jumped up and perched on the barstool next to him, completely obstructing his view of Cas.  “So how are you doing?  I thought inviting the man of your wet dreams here would cheer you up, but you’ve put yourself into a corner and you’re drinking your weight in booze.”  She frowned and leaned on the wood, carefully analyzing him. “Wait…did something happen?”

It must have been comical, the way Dean audibly gulped and whispered, “Yeah.  Maybe. I don’t know!”

Jo helped herself and grabbed his collar, yanking him in so they could speak without worrying about being overheard.  “Use your words, dude!  C’mon, give me something?  You’ve been a ping-ponging mess for God knows how long!  Last time you saw him, I’d categorize as a win.  Are you going to do something about it tonight when there’s liquid courage?  Are you two gonna fix things?”

Finally, Dean looked her in the eyes and found concern there.  Wow.  Was he really that much of a hot mess that Jo, of all people, was concerned about his actual well-being?  Sure, she was trying to get them together, but she looked downright worried.

“Dunno what _I_ can fix.  You know more than anyone, Joanna Beth, you know how hard I've been workin' for this,” he reminded her, swatting away Jo’s hand.  “Every game plan lands me on my face.  Every time he does something that could lead to another, someone locks up.  I don’t know what’s gonna happen tonight, but I’m getting the feeling more and more that…this just ain't meant to be.  That he hates me for leaving.  Since he remembers and keeps running.”

“Well, he won't be running for much longer...” she drew out the word and crossed her arms, a shit-eating grin flashing across her features, “Plus, I’m positive about being positive.  Even more positive he doesn’t hate you.”

Dean loathed the insinuation, because he was confessing his insecurities, dammit, he didn't need her snark and two-cents!  “What? You don’t know—”

“Hello, Dean.”

He completely locked up, and Jo’s cat-that-caught-the-canary act made all the sense in the world.  She had happily watched Castiel approach and Jo hadn’t given him a warning, a heads-up, a…friggin _anything_!  And now Cas was moving from behind him, up into his line of sight and standing right smack-dab next to Jo.

Dean sputtered out, “Oh, hey.  How you liking the party?”  It was pathetic, that was all Dean could even come up with, but he pressed on, “Jo and Sam know the good dive bars to hang out at least.  Would’ve sucked if the birthday girl wanted to do something lame.”

Yes.  Tease Jo.  That’s something he could do.

Even though Cas’ eyes were boring holes into his soul!

Jo wrapped an arm around Cas’ waist, at the precise height to oh-so casually hold his hip.  And Dean wanted that, he wanted something so small more than anything.  He had to remain cool under pressure, because of the timing...one thing was obvious: the second they’d lost their connection, Castiel had _stomped_ across the bar in a rush because he was here too damn soon for a leisurely stroll.    
  
That kinda rush _had_ to mean something, right?

“Hah!  I’m never lame!” Jo heavily rolled her eyes and glanced to the drink in Cas’ hand, squeezing him with the question of, “Need a refill?” then a mischievous, “Perhaps a round of shots?  It’s my birthday, after all.”

Too busy draining his own beer, Dean realized there was both a refill and a shot in front of him by the time he slammed the pint glass down on the counter.  As well as two pairs of eyes watching his every move.  One, to see what he was doing and the other?  Well…let’s just say that Dean was having a helluva time attempting to will down his threatening boner.

“You have a lovely, rowdy and interesting group of friends, Joanna,” Cas said flippantly, his eyes never leaving Dean's as he picked up his shot glass.  “You’re right, as the birthday girl, you should choose what we toast to.”

Dean’s hand was shaky as he reached for the small glass.  While he was no longer quivering with fear or anxiety, he was jarred by the closeness, the focus and the overt desire in Castiel’s gaze.  Some switch had flipped.  The man made sure Jo couldn’t see, but Dean could, and he had no clue how to react!

Cas had never pulled this before!  He’d never been _direct_ like this, he’d never shown—!

“Hmm,” Jo finally released Cas and thoughtfully tapped a finger on her chin.  “What about a wild, fun time and a night to remember?”  The way she emphasized ‘remember’ struck a chord.  But it was something Dean could get behind.

As he raised his glass, he took his own cue from Jo and repeated, “To a night to remember!” and tossed back the shot of whiskey.

Just as quickly as she’d appeared, Jo hopped right back up and announced, “I’m gonna mingle!  You two have fun, I’ll be back!” leaving Dean stranded with his jaw dropped.

Castiel took the seat Jo had been sitting in and asked oddly cool, “Why have you been over here on your own?  Last time I saw you drinking, you were moving around like the ground was littered with hot coals.  Yet tonight you’ve barely moved to speak to your brother or Joanna.”

With narrowed eyes, Dean honestly asked, “That’s what you wanted to know?  That’s why you came over?  To see why I’m being anti-social?”

He did his best not to recoil, when Cas admitted, “No.  That’s not why I came over.  But I’d like an answer, all the same.”

Dean flashed two fingers, twice, towards the bartender who winked at him and quickly filled up a pair of double-shots and slid them towards the men.  “Thank you, darling,” he was quick to flirt when it came to liquor and who was holding the keys, but he’d also been paying as he went and leaving tips galore.  That undoubtedly helped with the service.

Except Castiel didn’t like the way he was flirting with the woman behind the bar, his glare was menacing and actually sent a chill down Dean’s spine as well.  He quickly stated, “Hey, do this shot with me, then I’ll answer your question.”

Hesitant to reach out and take the glass, Castiel inquired, “A real answer?  Or something to appease me until I—”

“Oh, trust me,” Dean sneered, because at this point he didn’t have a damn thing to lose!  He’d already fuckin’ given it his all.  Over and over and over again, dammit.  “You’ll appreciate my ‘real’ answer.  Too tipsy to hold onto my poker face anyway. This one’ll do me in, inhibitions gone, next thing you know I’ll be dancing on tables!” he tacked on with a snort, Cas’ glass finally lifted to clink against his own.

The double-shot going down…that wasn’t fun.  Not by a long shot—pun intended.  Still, the warm and fuzzies surrounding him, both in mind and body kept the burn at bay, shielding him with the exquisite drunken sensation and the eye candy right in front of him.  Said eye candy’s nose was scrunched from the drink, and then waiting with anticipation.

“ _You_ , Cas, are the reason why,” Dean announced boldly, causing astonishment to breeze over the man’s face before he schooled his features.

“Me?  What is that implying?”  It was monotone, Castiel wasn’t giving anything away, not yet.  Per usual.

Hah, but Dean sure was.  It was now or never and he scooted his barstool close enough to Cas that their knees were knocking and the surrounding was just enough white noise so he could speak freely.  Before he even began, he found himself grinning because Cas almost, _almost_ reached out to touch him on instinct alone.

Dean would see how he’d fare.

“See, Castiel,” Dean sighed dramatically and used his full name deliberately, casting a long, once-over, and taking in all the glory that was set out in front of him, before—you know—he potentially ruined it all forever.  “I’ve gotta hang out over here and get hammered.  I’m giving up.  I tried, _fuck_ , did I try.  At first, it was to see if you remembered.  A quest to find the answers of whether you were ignorant or playing dumb.  I’m inclined to believe you do, and you clearly want nothing to do with me,” he sighed and trailed a finger along Cas’ thigh, the man dumbfounded into silence, which was exactly where Dean wanted him.

“I needed the liquor, you know?  Hoping, maybe, just maybe this time, _I’d_ forget.  Forget tonight, about how you’re gonna blow me off, not feeling the same about me, ‘cause all I can think about is you.  Because that’s the problem,” Dean threw out a challenge through his words, “I’ve got a very, _very_ vivid memory.  And I can’t go a single goddamn day without thinking about your thick cock, the way you plowed my ass raw all night long and left me begging for more.  Because, holy hell, do I want more.”

In an instant, Cas’ surprise manifested into a barely-contained lust, pupils dilating and his breath picking up in speed.  So that’s when Dean leaned in, just close enough to ‘whisper a secret’ but flicked his tongue along the shell of Castiel’s ear.

“You’ve been fucking with my head, Cas.  When you could’ve been fucking me.”  Dean’s voice was low and husky, his words hot puffs along the statue-like man’s neck, “I hope my answer was good enough for you.  You don’t have to worry about me sulking in the corner now, you’ve got what you came for.  You're free to leave, like you always do.”

Before he could retreat, right before Dean could go back to mindlessly flirting with the bartender and drinking until he wasn’t feeling any pain, Cas’ hand shot up to grab a fistful of his jacket and held him in place.  It had his adrenaline spiking in his blood more potent than his countless drinks.  What was happening?!

He knew he was wide-eyed when he faced Cas, because the grip he had…it didn’t just hold them practically nose-to-nose—it hauled them _together_.

Until Cas’ lips were on Dean’s, kissing him breathless.

Holy shit—

Of all things, Castiel licking into his mouth with a complete lack of control, was not what Dean had been expecting.  He clutched Cas’ thighs, tipped off balance when he was man-handled and he loved every second of it.  Still, they were in public!  They couldn’t get away with this, especially in front of all their friends and—

It looked like they were on the same page and broke apart in perfect sync, but the hunger etched on Cas’ face while he licked his lips was confirmation he’d eat him alive.  They needed to get a handle on this, they needed to come up with a way out of the bar…well, if that’s where Dean’s optimistic upstairs-downstairs brain was going.

Yet, now Dean had a question of his own, staring at the beautiful picture of Castiel overwhelmed by lust.  For Dean.  Something he never thought he’d see again.

“W-Why?”  Dammit, his voice cracked, but it didn’t matter—tonight was his night of not giving a crap.  

Slowly but surely, they were regaining composure for the time being and as Dean’s eyes flitted around the room, it looked as though Jo was the only one who’d seen the impromptu heated kisses.  Actually, the flashed thumbs up and cackle was more than enough confirmation.

Castiel’s brows furrowed when he repeated, “Why?  Why, what?”

“Seriously?” Dean asked with a hint of irritation, “Why did you play dumb?  Why did you have me second guessing after second guessing?  Whenever I thought I had a read on you, you’d throw another wrench in the machine!  I _tried_ , all right?!  I tried until the wheels fell off!  I wanted you so damn bad but you…”  He huffed, he didn’t want to admit it, but he was too drunk to hold back.  “It was like you were toying with me, all deliberately. Torturing me or something.  Just…why?”

This time, Cas’ spine snapped at attention, but he didn’t let go of their contact.  Which was good, Dean didn’t want to lose his touch, not yet.

“Because you left.”  Castiel said those words like it explained everything!

“No, nuh-uh, that is not a reason, buddy!” Dean shelled out the remainder of his tab and shot to his feet, putting into motion the final play, hoping it panned out.  “Me trying to make it right?  For weeks turned  _months_?  What you constantly continued to tear down, because ’I left?’ Fuckin’ _please_!”  Dean turned on a dime, shifting the blame towards Castiel when he explained, “That night, I knew what time you had to be to work in the morning.  You told me you were pulling overtime because of that stupid scam artist, and I know my brother’s schedule!  I would’ve been a pain in the ass, and all that would’a happened was you rushing around with a hangover and saying ‘see you later’ to me!”

Dean growled low, just enough for Cas to hear and no one else.  “I did you a favor! And then I come crawling back, hoping you’ll make good on all the things we talked about, all our friggin perfect future plans?  Heh, knew it was way too good to be true.”

When he spun on his heels, he made eye contact with Jo, who noticed just how distraught Castiel appeared—so Dean flashed her a grin and winked.  Although she appeared wary, there was the barest hints in her body language that told him she was thrilled.  That Jo _knew_ as Dean stormed out of the bar, he’d finally reeled Cas in; hook, line and sinker.

It wasn’t until they were on the main road, Dean searching for a cab to hail that Cas physically grabbed him and spun him around.

With his face cradled in Cas’ palms and this fascinating mix of imploring honesty and urgent arousal, the man stated, “I was wrong.  I shouldn’t have lashed out like that.  It’s just you...” he sighed heavily, constantly gazing down at Dean’s lips, “Let me make it up to you.”

“That wasn’t a question,” Dean noted right away, but he knew how Cas worked—he wanted Cas to know how Cas worked, also.  Make him aware of the situation, show him the hole he was digging.  Even though Dean was on cloud nine, Dean wanted to see what he could get out of him after all the previous torment.  “Are you even giving me an option?”

Castiel dropped his arms, but before Dean could mourn the loss he realized it was because he’d found a cab.  As Cas took his hand and led him into the car, he plainly said, “I’m going to make it up to you.  Because your reason for drinking?”  The intensity in his voice raised a lilt, things heating right back up.  “Let’s just say the feel is mutual.  Although you used past tenses, I’m using current words, and if there’s a problem I _will_ bring you up to speed.”

“How…romantic,” Dean tried to keep his haughty exterior right where it was, but it began to crumble by the second.

The bricks continued to fall as they neared Castiel’s house, and Dean’s heartbeat was thumping out of his chest.    
  
It was a blur, almost like the first time but something made him stall from the desperate, ravenous kisses the second they landed on the mattress.  Because his wall was gone, he was just…Dean.

Dean, maybe getting that second chance, pinned underneath the man of his dreams, both nearly naked was in awe of their passion for one another.  He couldn’t screw this up.  He held Cas at arm’s length, who was still hovering above him.  Instead of the fast and furious rutting of their erections, Cas toned it down to a lazy rhythm, seeing what exactly Dean had to say.

“I…” he was distracted, yeah, how could he not be?  Castiel was the sexist fucker to walk the face of the Earth, and he was only clad in his boxers, glistening with sweat and his dick— _goddamn_ , his dick— “I meant it.  Everything that we talked about the first time.  Felt it even stronger when I thought you’d completely forgotten me, or wanted me to fuck right off.  Guess distance makes the heart grow fonder, huh?” He rolled his eyes at how corny it was, but he had Cas’ undivided attention.

That also meant that while Cas completely disrobed them both (and what a sight to see…) he made sure they weren’t distracted by their manic desire.  Castiel was taking him seriously, he even put them on a level playing field and pulled Dean upward from where he’d been sprawled on his back, ready to get the party started.  But now they were seated on the bed, facing each other and Cas felt compelled to speak.

“Those weren’t drunken thoughts and your wild imagination at work?” he asked with a grin, scooting closer so he could take Dean’s legs and drape them over his own crossed ones.  “You mentioned before, during your tantrum, that it seemed too good to be true.  But I’d truly like to see things through,” Cas’ words were laced with a different kind of urgency as he carded a hand through Dean’s hair.

Still, Dean couldn’t help but laugh.  “I was baiting you.  That wasn’t a tantrum, I was trying to see if you thought I was worth it.  If you’d actually chase me down.  Do something about it.”

His eyes widened before he chuckled and shook his head.  “Did I pass the test?”

“With a gold star,” Dean whispered, leaning in to steal a heated, charged kiss.  “We’ll get to the reward part, but Cas…I—” He took a deep breath.  “I ain’t no good at these things.  First night opened my eyes.  Then following you, getting the download from Sammy and Jo, trying to figure you out, knowing who you were, I just…” Dean’s eyes fell down to his lap, and unfortunately (because they were naked) it was to the sight of two thick, hard and heavy cocks, oozing precum.

That wasn’t exactly the visual he was hoping for, as a…minor distraction.  Well, it did a good job pulling a whimper from his throat, because Dean wanted to touch.  He wanted to taste, he wanted Cas in every way possible—which led him back to his initial point!

“I know it’s soon.  It’s _stupid_ soon.  B-but I want this.  I friggin _fought for this_.”  Dean shut his eyes, grousing, “If you can get over the fact that I snuck out on you before breakfast in bed, or something.  You seem real keyed up about that.”

Before his eyelids fluttered open, lips were on his and he’d expected it.  What he didn’t expect was the intent behind them, everything turning on its head and blindsiding Dean.  This—

Fuck, this was about as close as he could get to ‘stupid soon.’  And it looked like he wasn’t alone.  What the hell...?

Castiel gently held Dean as he soothed them back down to the bed, their bodies pressed together and moving in a different way, at a different pace, with this…different endgame?  Sure, the way Cas had just uprooted everything they were—well, it was saying something.  Except, it wasn't the _verbal_ something that Dean desperately sought as confirmation.

But, _holyfuckingshit,_  he was so caught up in the now, it wasn’t until Cas was three fingers deep inside Dean’s now-pliable hole that he needed it!

Dean had to fight for it, unfortunately—and fight like hell.  Pleasure was close in on him from every surface, whether delivered by Cas’ lips, his cock rutting against Dean’s own, or the mind-blowing way he finger-fucked Dean’s hole.  He was a writhing, mewling mess of primal hunger, responding and belonging to Cas and Cas alone.  Which was why it was that much more important—!

“P-please,” Dean gasped, but he scrubbed away Castiel’s wicked grin, thinking he was begging for his cock, when he surprised him, saying, “Please tell me you w-want this, too.”

Yeah, that wicked grin was gone all right.  As were his fingers, rolling a condom over his perfect cock that Dean’s greedy body was so friggin eager to take in.  He missed that burn, he had dreams about the near-violent way Cas had fucked him into the mattress and—yeah—even that entire calling off work shebang.

“Cas,” Dean tried again, currently stressed out by the lack of a response as the man covered the latex with lube, even though the anticipation was overwhelming.  “If you don’t, just fuckin’ say it!  It’s fine, just tell me, and fuck me into next week!”

As he teased the head around Dean’s already soaked and lubed-up hole, Cas barely dipped in—with the hushed confession of, “Of course, I want this.  I want you.  Why would I have acted the way I had if I wasn’t…conflicted by confusion?  Guarding myself?”

When he slowly slid inside, Dean savored each inch paired with the words that echoed his own sentiments—those could’ve made him cum right then and there.  Cas bottomed out, Dean gasped and grappled for him, and it wasn't for his hips to get things moving: but his face.

Dean kissed Castiel hard, with fearless abandoned and then began rocking their hips together.  Castiel moaned as Dean paid him back with zeal, clenching his muscles around the cock currently rocking, and increasing to straight-up pounding before Dean could blink.  Yeah, the wind was being punched from his lungs, the zings of electric pleasure were about to spark his orgasm, but he couldn’t stop talking!

“Don’t gotta hide yerself around me, Cas.  I want all of you.  D-did from day one. There’s just something about you, something amazing—” he was cut off as Castiel brutally assaulted his sweet spot and left him reeling.  While panting, he had to kiss Cas, had to tell him, “I’m sorry.  And I actually mean it, I wanna— _fuck_!—” Dean was thrashing, a second away from blowing his load when he finished, “Wanna be yours, only yours!” and coated them both with his cum.

Castiel gasped, but he was now fucking Dean more assertively, in a way that was for himself rather than only his lover’s, as he sought completion and chased that same euphoria.  The best part was, that when Cas was digging for a condom and lube, he’d left the bedside lamp atop the table on.  After all, getting Dean ready after all this elongated foreplay?  It was exactly as Dean had said—torture.  When all they wanted was to be together.

But right now, in this moment, watching every nuance and flash of heaven as it rushed through Cas’ body from the tingling of his scalp to the curling of his toes?  Dean couldn’t keep his thoughts to himself:

“Jesus, you couldn’t be more stunning…” it was filled with awe, Dean raising his hips and grinding in time to give Cas the best orgasm he could.  

It wasn’t until they both collapsed that he realized what he said, because Cas began chuckling.  Which, of course, made Dean blanch.

“What?” Dean inquired carefully, now literally the best and the worst time for steps forward _and_ backward.  This moment was so pivotal and important.  There was no other option but to do this right.

Castiel pulled him closer and began to pepper kisses all along Dean’s face and chest, and he liked this very, very much.  “You call me stunning, yet you leave me.  You wish for something more, something near-monogamous, yet you do not have the confidence to make amends.  Please, don’t misunderstand.  It’s not distrust that I have.  I actually trust you much more than I should.  And the guarding I spoke of?  Well, that had to do with my _heart_ , Dean.”  The admission pulled a sharp inhale from Dean and he finally, finally understood.

“’Know that the first time I was bad, but I tried to fix it.  I’ll never run again, I swear,” Dean vowed, rolling over top the other man because he was happy, sated and pliable.  “I’ll be on my best behavior, Cas. You won’t have to worry about me, ’cause I’ll always come running back.  Again and again…”  

He made sure he had Cas' undivided attention, “And…we can make a trade.  If you give me your heart?  I‘ll take damn good care of it.  I told you, this _is_ kinda crazy, but I feel it and, well…just tell me if it’s too much and I need to get the hell outta dodge.  Or…”  Dean paused, taking in a deep breath and it looked as though Cas was letting it be, laying in wait for him to gain the courage to form the words.  And fuck it, Dean did. “ _Or_ tell me if you want to be crazy.  With me.  Because I’m here and, uh, I’m kinda crazy about you, Cas, and you can have my heart too…”

Castiel pulled Dean in closer, wrapping him tighter in his arms with this insane strength that was enough to give Dean’s dick a valiant twitch and he sighed happily, “If you _stay_ , we chat over breakfast,” with a teasing quality in his voice.  “I want you here, I don’t want you to leave—this weekend is the perfect span of time to see how we work.”

“Already know.”  There was a grin spreading across Dean’s face as he leaned up and smacked a dramatic kiss on Castiel’s lips.  “It’s gonna go even better than I’d hoped.  I’ve got you.  Fucking _finally_.”

Castiel couldn’t stop himself from continuing to laugh, and Dean felt this weightlessness set into his bones.  This feeling of ‘right.’  God, had he worked for it, the payoff was nothing short of awesome, and he didn’t let Castiel’s mildly shell-shocked and wary demeanor worry him.  Dean would prove any of Cas’ doubts wrong.  He’d gotten this far, no way he was running again.

\---------------------

When Dean woke up surrounded in the heat of another body, his initial fight-or-flight response kicked in.  Until he remembered everything that happened last night—how fantastic it was—and how he‘d managed to do the impossible.  Dean allowed himself to relax back down against the mattress, soak into the warm of the limbs and smile brightly.  Because he’d done it.

He’d finally, finally not only won Castiel over, but found out the answer to the question that remained somewhat of a deep, dark secret up until last night.  Now, though…Dean was curious.  Exceedingly curious.

Cas was stirring, pulling him in closer from behind and chuckled to himself.  “Wow.  You did stay here.  You truly meant what you said.”

With a nod, Dean cleared his sleep-hoarse voice and tried to sound as nonchalant as he could.  “’Course I meant it.  But I gotta ask, Cas.  That first night.  Do you have _any_ blank spots?  Or do you remember everything?”

It didn’t matter what Jo had told him, he needed to hear it for himself.

Apparently, this was important enough to roll Dean over, because now he was faced with a grinning man looming above him with a smirk that didn’t spell out anything good.  Dean wouldn’t stay dormant, his hands reached out and grabbed Cas’ flank, thumbs grazing over his hip bones while he waited for an answer. 

“Is there something specific you’re referring to?” Cas’ voice was equally mischievous, “Because I don’t have any blank spots, I’m afraid.  My tolerance for alcohol is quite high, so I remember every second of that night, in radiant colors.”

Tilting his head, Dean quipped, “Oh yeah?  What kinda colors would those be?” trying to get a rise out of him, but knowing at the same time he was digging himself a hole.

“I remember every shade of grey that made up your suit under my fingertips as I took joy in undressing you.  I remember the vermillion tie around your neck that we soon used to bind your wrists above your head the third time I fucked you.”  Cas’ confidence took the form of fingertips, teasingly drawing shapes against Dean’s naked chest, his breath beginning to race once more.  “I remember the beautiful, hidden freckles on your ass when I ate you out—”

“Fuck, Cas, you’re gonna—!” Dean tried to stop him, because this wasn’t fair!

And he wasn’t expecting this!  Sure, everyone had their own sexual prowess come alive when they’d been drinking, but it looked like nothing stopped Castiel.  Deviant was his natural setting and Dean was already aching for more.  Even though he couldn’t afford to be laid up like he was previously!

Quickly, Cas’ knuckles cuffed underneath Dean’s chin as he asked, “I’m gonna…what?”

“You’re gonna be the end of me,” he snorted out the laugh, because what else could he really say?  “If it makes you feel any better, I almost couldn’t escape that first time, you know.”

“Oh?” Cas was intrigued as he leaned down and softly kissed Dean’s neck, “And why was that?”

“Because of how hard you railed me.”  It was Dean’s turn to force the other man’s focus, “I had to call in sick, dude.  I literally couldn’t go into work because of the damage done by your cock.”

“I—” he fumbled with his words and raised an eyebrow.  “I don’t know whether to apologize or feel impressed—? How did you feel about that situation, Dean?”

“Me?  I was impressed,” he admitted honestly, but changed it to, “Less impressed later.  When you stared at me like you’d never seen my mug in your life.  That was...a rude awakening.”

“But now you know why,” Castiel implored with a heavy sigh and pressed their foreheads together.  “Now that we’re here, there’s no liquor clouding our brains, we should speak about this.  About us.”

Without missing a beat, Dean said, “Nothing’s changed.  I want what I’ve always wanted.”

Cas hummed and didn’t move, their breaths syncing up as the silence extended much longer than what Dean was comfortable with.  Still he didn’t want Cas to move, in fact, he wrapped his arms around the man’s waist and pulled him tight so he could drop his weight atop him, rather than hovering above.  Cas went willingly into Dean’s arms.

Dean, who was squeezing the hell out of him because he was nervous as all hell.  “…Cas?”

“Oh, I apologize, I was enjoying the moment,” he tossed out carelessly, like he wasn’t about to give Dean a fucking heart attack!  “Having you here in the mornings is something I could get used to.  Now that you’ve seen it through, is that something you’d want, too?”

“Yeah, I would,” he readily admitted, making sure every sentiment was aloud, that they were _talking_ , because Dean was…scared of any silence.  “Maybe you could even spend the night at my place, too.”

“Perhaps.”  There was an amused grin tugging the corners of his lips when their eyes met.  “Are there any more hurdles?  Anything that needs to be addressed?  Or…can we proceed?”

Now it was Dean’s turn to be a little shit, batting his eyelashes innocently and asking, “Proceed to what, exactly?”

The dirty look Cas shot him rivaled one of Sam’s bitchfaces, and he rolled back on top to demand that authority he carried with him.  “Do I need to work harder to make you remember?  Make the concept stick with you?”  His voice was downright filthy, as was the lewd roll of his hips against Dean’s half-hard morning wood.

With a gasp, Dean shook his head—hands darting out to steady Cas’ hips from pulling _that_ again.  “Sorry, shit, sorry!  I’m being an ass!”  After a few centering breaths, Dean surged up and kissed Cas soundly, something they both melted into like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Dean whispered into his ear, “Can I keep you, Cas?” his nose brushing along the outer edge.  
  


A rare smile, one that was wide and proud flashed, and Cas agreed, “You have me.  You’ve had me since that first night, Dean.”

“You’re a jerk, playing hard to get,” he admonished, cupping Cas’ face while his thumbs stroked along his chiseled cheekbones.  “Makes the victory that much sweeter, huh?”

With a sharp breath in, Cas’ gaze darted from Dean’s lips, to his eyes and back again.  Unfolding before him were the inner workings of lust, and it was undeniable as black pupils slowly began expanding and making the gorgeous blue of Castiel’s eyes that much more scarce and special.  Although, Dean was quite interested in whatever was happening right now, he couldn’t deny it.

Careful with his words, Cas stated, “You said before you needed to call off work.”  When Dean nodded for him to continue, fascinated with where this was going, Cas wondered aloud, “How rough was I on you last night?  Is there a chance that we could…?”

“Castiel Novak.  Seducing me one minute, shy to say the words the next,” Dean tutted, and chuckled while he stole another kiss.  “You did fuck me good last night.  Damn, did I need it.  But so long as you’re not on a mission to fuck my legs clean off, I’m pretty damn sure it’ll work out.”  The airy confession of, “God, I want you,” fell from his lips.

“You have no idea…” Cas growled, descending on his body with tongue and teeth, “We’re lucky to be naked already, or else I’d be worried the clothes would be torn to shreds.”

“N-not like it matters,” Dean moaned, their erections trapped between their bodies and rutting together, “But what got into you?”

“The victory.”  He was sucking a mark against Dean’s neck when he reminded him, “I hadn’t expected this.  While I wished and hoped that all would come around, I wasn’t holding my breath.  Now that it’s real?  Now that I can do all the things I’ve imagined doing to you?  The sky’s the limit.”  His hand wrapped around both their cocks when he whispered, “And I have a very, _very_ vivid imagination, Dean.”

“Fuck yes!”  He arched into Cas' fist, but the exclamation was for the promise.  “I-I can turn those images into something very, _very_ physical for you, babe,” Dean grabbed a handful of hair, demanding his attention, “Say the words, and it’s yours.”

As if Castiel couldn’t look anymore taken, anymore lust-drunk and hungry—this took it to the next stage.  He agreed avidly and sunk down, pushing Dean’s legs apart, “We’ll save that for another time.  Right now?  I want to be one with my boyfriend, completely sober, and watch his every move in the sunlight instead of the shadows.”

Ironically, no matter how vanilla those words were, they ignited a flame inside Dean that nothing had ever come close to sparking.  Maybe it was mirroring Cas’ need, maybe it was in the way he meant the words and they carried more weight than the mere carnal side of it?  

Dean had no clue what it was about it, but it had him spreading his legs obscenely wide, grinning wildly and ordering, “C’mon, boyfriend.  Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Yes, Dean had to agree—victory _was_ so sweet.

…And thank God for small miracles, that he wasn't on the schedule to work the next day.  Jo wouldn’t let him hear the end of it, because he would have—most definitely—needed to call in another 'sick day.'   
  
It wasn't Dean's fault that celebrating was deliciously physical and Cas couldn’t hold back!  Neither was complaining, and Dean was especially thrilled by the ordered not to leave bed.  It worked out in everyone’s favor, and, oh, what a _memory_ their reunion was.


End file.
